


A Little ASSistance

by BoringMacaroni



Category: Original Work
Genre: Centaurs, Elves, Eproctophilia, Face-Sitting, Fantasy, Fart Fetish, Farting, Fetish, Flatulence, Gassy Guy, Male Farting, Other, Reindeer, fart kink, squashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 23:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20517923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoringMacaroni/pseuds/BoringMacaroni
Summary: Thunder fails his Flyers exam - but it turns out to be the least of his problems, when a new trainer shows up to whip him into shape. Sequel to 'Winter Winds'.





	A Little ASSistance

“Well, I can see that I have my work cut out for me.”

Hearing this unfamiliarly refined voice, Mitzi stepped out from the corner she had been sweeping up in and found herself face-to-face with a respectably dressed elf – one she had a feeling was not a native to the North Pole.

“And… you are?” she asked the newcomer, flashing a look at her brother for some support, but the cervitaur hadn’t even noticed that they had a visitor in their stall. As usual, he was too busy stuffing his face.

“Apologies, I thought you heard me come in. My name is Taranth Torgella,” the elf replied, smiling cordially at the youngling, then losing some of that cordiality when their lukewarm gaze landed on the overweight reindeer. “And this is Thunder, I presume? Second son of Donner?”

“Congrats,” Thunder responded drily, letting out a soft burp before cramming another handful of oats into his mouth. He pointed to the golden plaque nailed in above the stall door. “You can read.”

Taranth was unfaltering in their civility. They bowed their head. “Pleasure to meet you, Thunder.”

“Whether it’s as pleasurable for me depends on if you’ve brought me more oats or not. Have you?”

“I’m afraid that’s not one of my duties as your trainer.”

Thunder hacked out the food he was halfway through chewing. “Mmmhffh?!?”

“His what?” Mitzi asked on his behalf.

“Trainer,” Taranth replied. “I said I’m his new trainer. I’ll be training him. Do I need to make it any clearer?”

“Trainer? I don’t _need_ a trainer!” Thunder scoffed. This time it was his turn to flash Mitzi a pleading look. “Do you know anything about this?”

“Perhaps I’m at the wrong stable.” The genteel elf fished into their pockets and took out a slip of parchment paper. “I’m looking for the cervitaur who failed his Flyers assessment with the lowest marks in the whole class?”

Thunder’s slack facial features immediately hardened in barely concealed embarrassment. His ears lowered and he returned his focus on his bag of oats, which were now being consumed at double the speed of before.

Mitzi cleared her throat. “He’s still a little sensitive about that,” she said in a low voice.

The elf tucked the paper back into their pocket and launched over the wall, landing neatly in the centre of the stall.

“That’s not a problem. The first step is to rid yourself of all self-pity. It’ll only drag you down.” Hearing a rumble that was characteristic of indigestion, Taranth glanced at the massive, bulging belly that hung below the reindeer. “Although that stomach of yours seems to be doing a fine job already.”

“Are you seriously fat-shaming me in my own stall?” Thunder interjected through an oat-filled mouth.

Taranth ignored this and turned their attention to Mitzi. “I presume you’re the primary caretaker?”

“If by primary caretaker you mean exasperated sibling, then yes,” Mitzi replied flatly.

“Tell me, er…”

“Mitzi.”

“Mitzi,” Taranth smiled warmly. “What’s an average day like with Thunder? What sort of activities do you do?”

Mitzi’s mouth hung open incredulously. “Activities? Well, I groom him, I fill up his water trough, I pick his hooves, I clean up his poop…”

**BBBBLLLFFFFOOOORRRRRRRT!**

As if they might have forgotten, Thunder reminded the elves of his presence by breaking an obnoxious load of wind. Taranth rolled their eyes when they heard him giggling at his own release. Mitzi groaned and took a step away from her brother’s large rump.

“A _lot_ of poop,” she stressed. Thunder’s ass produced another revolting burst of semi-moist air, and one of his back hooves lifted off the ground to help ease the stinker out. Mitzi plugged her nose. “He’s very regular,” she added uncomfortably. 

Taranth, who had decided they might as well hang onto that paper, took it out and fanned it near their nose.

“Charming. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

They noticed one of Thunder’s ears pricking in recognition at this remark and smiled to themselves.

“Now what about exercising? And feeding?” they continued.

“I walk when I want, and I eat when I want,” Thunder replied. He turned himself around and jutted out his chest, producing a monster belch from his mouth. “So if you’ve got any more questions about me, you could always _ask_ me, you know. I’m not some dumb animal.”

“Very well,” Taranth said. “I conducted my own research before coming here, of course, but do refresh my memory – what is your fastest recorded flight-time?”

Thunder’s pride faded bit-by-bit, until he was shuffling his back hooves nervously against the concrete floor.

“Uhhh…”

“So I thought,” Taranth smirked. “I can’t quite see the promise in you now, but perhaps after a little chiselling up, you might prove to not be such a waste of time after all.”

“Hey!” Thunder barked. “You have no right to come in here and-“

In a flash, Taranth brought out a harness from their satchel and applied it around his neck and antlers. A restraining tool typically used for the unruly types – the more primitive creatures.

Thunder’s face flushed a dark shade of red. It took him a moment to process what had just happened.

“You did not do what I think you just did…” he whispered, his tone disturbed and his eyes wide.

“Oh, but I think I did,” Taranth patted his furry back. Mitzi failed to stifle her giggles.

“In front of my baby sister?!” He hissed. “Really?”

“Don’t make this more painful than it needs to be,” Taranth sighed impatiently. “Come along.”

Taranth jerked on the rope attached to the halter and heaved, dragging Thunder down into a squat with the intention of mounting him. But Thunder grunted and with all his might, fought against it, eventually causing the rope to snap out of Taranth’s hands.

“Don’t be such a baby, you big baby!” Mitzi chastised.

“You stay out of it,” Thunder retorted. Unaffected by the aggression, Taranth took out a second rope – judging by the way Thunder’s face fell he hadn’t expected them to carry more than one – and held on to it with a firmer grip. They nodded at Mitzi.

“Thanks for the help, youngling. We’ll be back by dusk.”

Mitzi walked with them to the door and delighted in watching Thunder being pulled into the snowy landscape by a creature less than half his size.

“By dusk?!” She heard his cries carry on the wind. _“But we’re gonna miss diiiiinneeeer!”_

* * *

With all the strength he had left in his four legs, Thunder jogged up a frosty hillside, trying to seek refuge from Taranth and their incessant instructions. He hadn’t worked out as strenuously as this since he was a calf, and all of those years of slovenliness and slobbery were starting to catch up with him.

He came to a stop on a dry patch, the shadow of a huge snow-covered tree. It was here that his legs finally gave way. He collapsed, shaking the ground underneath him, which in turn caused all the snow to fall on top of him. Considering how every muscle in his pudgy body seemed to be on fire, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

“Oh… oh…” He panted. Through teary-eyes, he stared helplessly at the star-spotted sky above him. “If you’re out there, Gods - I know I haven’t always been the most responsible taur, or the most honest, or the most hygienic, but if you’re listening, _please_-“

“I didn’t say you could have a break!”

Thunder visibly recoiled at the sound. That wasn’t the response he wanted. How was the elf’s voice not hoarse after all that yelling?

“Too bad,” Thunder huffed back at them, and flopped onto his side. “It’s my dying wish…” He coughed twice for good measure.

“You are not dying,” Taranth kneeled beside him and opened their satchel. “You’re just lazy, and for once someone’s actually asked you to do some work. Get over it.”

“I do plenty of work!” Thunder suddenly sprang back to life.

“I thought you said you were dying.”

“I am! Oh, the light is fading… my limbs… _are growing cold_…”

“Enough,” Taranth said firmly. “The harder you work, the easier it will get. Give it a month and we’ll be saying goodbye to this big thing.”

They poked the taur’s flabby gut. Thunder frowned and swatted their hand away.

“For the record, I like my chub,” he grunted.

“Assessments don’t,” Taranth replied after taking a huge swig of water. “If you want to be on the team someday, you’ll have to trim the tub. You’ll feel much better for it.”

They offered the cannister to Thunder.

“I’ll pass,” he mumbled and closed his eyes. The next sentence was easier to say without looking at the reprimanding elf. “Just so you’re aware, I could be stick-thin, and they _still _wouldn’t put me on the team. So long as Lightning’s around I’m destined to be second fiddle.”

“That’s the depression talking.”

“I’m not depressed!”

“And there’s the denial…”

“I’m not in denial!” Thunder yelled, then realised that was exactly what someone in denial would say. “Eugh, whatever. What’s next? Juggling boulders? Chopping down trees with my antlers? A marathon?” He shuddered at the last one.

Taranth stood up and dusted the snow off their knees. “Nothing. I think it’s about time we headed home.”

“Amen to that!” Thunder whooped. He leaned against the tree and after some straining, hauled his bulk up off the ground.

“Not that way,” Taranth said as Thunder started to plod back down the hill. They directed him toward a fence. “We’ll cut through there. There’s a shortcut just beyond it.”

“I’m not a show-horse, you know,” Thunder grumbled as they approached the wooden barrier. “How do you figure I’m going to get over that?”

“We’re not going over. We’re going_ through_ it.” Taranth led him along to a sizeable gap… for a normal-sized taur, that is. They eyed Thunder up and for a moment, seemed to hesitate.

“Come on, then. After me.”

Taranth ducked and climbed through the hole, and Thunder ducked and tried to climb in after them – but, rather inevitably, his humongous hide prevented him from going any further.

“Oh crap,” he growled, his hooves sliding against the wet snow as he tried to pull his lower half through. “Hhhhhng! C’mon…!”

“What are you doing? Get on with it!” Taranth urged him. Thunder stopped his frantic wriggling and stared blankly at the elf.

“What do you think I’m doing, admiring the view? I’m stuck!”

Taranth’s shoulders sagged as they groaned. They feared this might happen.

“Gods above, it’s that stomach of yours, isn’t it? Try and suck it in, then push.”

Thunder sucked it in, squeezed and didn’t get any further forward than before.

“I think I need an extra pair of hands,” he wheezed, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Fine,” Taranth gritted their teeth. “I do hope you’re clean...”

Taranth jumped the fence and walked around to the massive rear-end of the cervitaur. To their relief, both of his big, cream-coloured cushions were stainless, fluffy and relatively fresh. They sucked in a deep breath and pushed against his furry hind.

“Push with me!” They ordered Thunder. “I can’t do it alone!”

“I _am_ pushing,” Thunder shouted back, his face reddening from the exertion.

“Well push harder!”

Thunder gritted his teeth and pushed as hard as he could. Unfortunately for Taranth, the only part of him that wanted to move was his bowels.

** _PPPPPPPPPRRRRRppprprprprrrrrvvvVVVRRRRRrrrbbBBBBBrrrrfffffrrRRRFFFRRLLLRROOUUURRRT!_ **

A ginormous rush of air slipped out between Thunder’s chubby buttocks and blasted their retched fumes into Taranth’s face. The elf’s closely cropped hair was swept back untidily by the reindeer’s explosive gas.

“Ohohoho_oooh_~” Thunder had never been shy when it came to voicing how entertaining or pleasurable he found his farts – and this one was a winner on both counts. Taranth staggered backwards as the reindeer erupted but recovered a lot faster than Thunder had expected… or hoped for.

“That was classy,” they rebuked sarcastically.

“Don’t blame me. Blame whoever prepares those bags of oats,” Thunder replied. He felt his taur tummy churning again... 

**PPRROFRT! Pbbbuurrrt! Vvvvrrruuuumfffurrrt! **

“Whew! I don’t know what they put in those things, but I _know_ they don’t agree with me.”

“I never would have guessed. Can we please hurry this up?”

Taranth pushed into his backside again. Thunder grunted and clutched either sides of the fence, using it to tug himself forward. He heard the wood creak and splinter and gurgle under the pressure of all his weight.

Wait. That gurgling might not have been the fence.

Thunder’s bloated intestines relieved themselves of another flatulent release. The mighty ripper vibrated against the chunky cleavage of his oversized behind, purring out in a low brassy drone. Taranth coughed on the warm stench but put on a brave face and continued with their effort.

“I’m getting more acquainted with your diet than I’d prefer,” they muttered.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was from last night’s dinner. Might’ve been my fifth plate. Or my sixth.”

**BBBBVVVRRRRRFFFFRRRRRRT!**

“Ooh! That one was in a hurry, huh?” 

“Shut it and keep pushing!” Taranth demanded.

**FFFRRrrrrbbbbuuuuurrrrrrpppffrt! PPpphhhhrrrrpppprrbrrt! Ppllorrt! Pppssshhhssst!**

All that thick kneading from Taranth’s soft hands had created a perfectly relaxing environment for Thunder’s spinchter to let loose, and as the fart-filled minutes went on, he found he was no longer cutting them on purpose. They spurted and spluttered out of him as they wished. He was in no position to make them stop – after all, a happy gut meant a happy reindeer, or at least in his view!

“Wait! Wait a second…” Taranth coughed and stabilized their wobbly legs against the fence. Thunder glanced over his shoulder and impishly wagged his tail.

“That’s funny,” he tilted his head, “am I going crazy, or do I remember you saying you could handle it?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Taranth said quietly. “Not the most common display of dominance, I’ll give you that. But you’re not slick.”

Thunder leaned to the side, and out came a soggy ripple.

“I dunno. That one felt pretty slick,” he smirked.

“Pass gas all you want!” Taranth was back on two steady feet. “Rest assured, I can handle it.”

_Gggguuurrrgggbbbbrrrlllluuuuuooouuurrrggg…_

A distant rumbling came from Thunder’s human stomach. He glanced at it and traced a hand over his curves to feel all the distress that was happening inside. Then his eyes followed the sound as it traveled downwards, settling into his taur tummy, where the disturbance grew. His huge gut lurched and trembled with all the pockets of air building within him. 

He raised a brow and leered mischievously at the elf.

“Oh, _can you~?”_

Taranth fixed him with an unrelenting stare. One that said to Thunder: bring it on.

So he did.

The taur’s stubby tail lifted, as if the enormous fart needed any help in volleying its way out of his intestinal tract and into Taranth’s face. It was desperate to get out of him. The hot, rancid air buried into every single pore on the elf’s porcelain skin, and Taranth should consider themselves lucky if they got rid of the lingering stench of the reindeer’s rump after one shower. Their determined and competitive nature was admirable, and the reason behind most of their successes in life, but in this case... they would've been better off leaving it at home.

The taur smirked when he heard the usual response: a thud, as Taranth collapsed behind him. Same old story, he thought. With one surprisingly smooth maneuver, he freed himself from the fence’s hole. It was almost as if he had been capable of doing it the entire time.

Thunder waited patiently on the other side of the fence. After two minutes Taranth suddenly rolled onto their back and gasped for precious air.

“…I may have underestimated your brand,” they admitted meekly.

Thunder winked. “We’ll work on it. It's a long walk home, so…” He lowered himself into a squat, laughing when it triggered a loud **POOT!** out of his meaty behind. “Hop on. I think you’ve earned it.”

Taranth thanked him more than once as they saddled onto his back.

“Reassure me of one thing," their voice dropped cautiously, "you aren’t _always _as gaseous as this, are you?” 

“Oh, Taranth,” Thunder chuckled, his tail wagging behind him. “Sweet, innocent Taranth... you have much to learn.”


End file.
